


Colloqiualisms

by pseudocitrus



Series: Teacher/Student Human AU [8]
Category: Tokyo Ghoul, Tokyo Ghoul:re
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Established Relationship, F/M, Light Dom/sub, Roleplay, Smut, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 11:37:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3727411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pseudocitrus/pseuds/pseudocitrus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haise finds Touka's old high school uniform.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Colloqiualisms

**Author's Note:**

> this continuity allows me to indulge so much sillyness, hahaha.  
>   
> also, ummm, i’ve been receiving a lot of really kind feedback recently about my writings for this AU, so, thank you so much to those of you who take the time to read it and are enjoying it!  **important important disclaimer:** [teacher/student AU](http://neimana.tumblr.com/post/113405848333/pls-tell-me-your-haise-touka-student-teacher-au) is originally [neimana](http://tmblr.co/m72_-XOcOR-9HvRKFu_YrDg) ‘s idea! this is like…a fanfic of her AU, & veers from the timeline she wrote originally.
> 
> hope you’re having a good day!

Haise has been quiet for a while now.

“Sensei?” Touka calls. “Is everything alright?”

She navigates the columns of boxes back to her bedroom. He’s still there, but looking at something. After he hears her approach, he glances back at her with a laugh.

“I can’t believe you still have this.”

He holds up a hanger covered by clear plastic. Inside is her high school uniform.

Touka grimaces. Haise has been teasing her all day about the things she’s saved over the years; it’s hard for her to let go. In this case, though, her old uniform had just gotten trapped beneath her other clothing and never escaped. For...she counts silently. Four years? Five?

How embarrassing.

“We can get rid of it,” she mutters. She holds out her hand.

And Haise holds the uniform back.

“U-um...” Haise smiles apprehensively, scratching his face. “What if you try putting it on first?”

Touka blinks.

“R-really? I — I mean — I could, but —” For some reason she’s blushing. “It probably won’t even fit.”

“That’s alright,” Haise reassures her quickly. “I — I just want to see.”

“Well...okay.”

She takes the uniform and goes off into another room. She hears Haise approach and she calls “Not yet!” But he just throws her a pair of knee-high socks from around the door frame and retreats.

The socks are the only thing that still sort of fit. The blouse is too tight at the arms and chest — and the skirt is _really_ short. Touka pats down the wrinkled fabric and wishes she still had a mirror unpacked somewhere so she could at least try and look a little less ridiculous.

Then again, it’s just Haise. So what if she looks stupid? Inspired, she tugs off a couple rubber bands from her wrist and manages to part her short hair into two tails. Then she treads back to her bedroom. Haise is sitting on her last remaining bit of large furniture, her desk, on which are also the last books that haven’t yet been packed away.

Touka coughs. What is it that Tsukiyama always says?

“Um... _voila_?”

He turns. After he sees her, he blinks and tents his hand over his face, and for too long says nothing.

Touka huffs and crosses her arms. “I _told_ you it was too small. I barely fit in it. I’m going to change.”

“N-no, wait,” Haise gasps. “S-sorry — it’s just — um. It’s not...I mean...it actually fits much better than I thought it would.”

Touka frowns. “Really?”

He nods at her, and holds out his hands. Touka walks toward him, careful, too-aware of the way his eyes are dragging across her and her every motion.

She recognizes that look. Her skin warms, and she hesitates and pauses just beyond his open palms.

“A-am I supposed to be doing something?” she asks, and he smiles and grabs her around the waist and pulls her against him, between his parted legs.

“I don't know,” he replies. “ _Are_ you supposed to be doing something, Touka-chan?”

Touka reddens. “S- _sensei_ —”

She cuts herself off. She supposes she shouldn't get mad at him for calling her that when she still can’t stop calling him her teacher long after the role has expired.

Still, this is the first time he’s called her “Touka-chan” since — well — ever since — back _then._

And somehow, with her wearing this old uniform, and with that old nickname in her ears again, something about all of this is — really — really, really, _really_ embarrassing.

Mostly because her belly has given a strong, dizzying shudder.

“Maybe you should be studying,” Haise continues, rubbing his hands up and down her waist. “Your last test scores weren’t as good as they normally are. Maybe you need some extra review sessions.”

“H-hey!” Touka protests. “I know all my material just fine.”

His grip loosens. “O-oh, no. I, um — I didn’t actually mean —”

“If I’m not doing well,” Touka snaps, “it’s because my teacher is _really_ distracting,” and Haise’s drooping smile picks up again.

“ _Distracting_? In what way?”

His fingertips are kneading into her back, slow and luxurious, loosening up her muscles with pleasant tingles. Touka swallows.

“Well...for one thing...he’s really annoying.”

“...I...I see.”

“It’s because he makes me have all these tutoring sessions with him,” Touka explains, raising her hands to his shoulders and easing up to him. “Every single day. And he gives me all this work to do, but I can’t concentrate at all, because of this weird hair that he has. And his big mom glasses. And his...his...mouth.”

Her face is starting to hurt from how hot it is, but Haise’s fingertips are digging in now, and the flutter in her stomach is definitely making its way to all her extremities.

“His mouth, huh? What’s wrong with it?”

“W-well,” Touka whispers. “One time he kissed me with it, and now whenever I see it I just want more.”

Now the color of his face is starting to match hers. He looks like he’s about to laugh at her, but he reins it in and takes her chin in thumb and forefinger, turning her face to his after she looks away.

“That’s no good at all. Is that really what happens?”

“Y-yes. I-it’s awful. It’s horrible. I can’t...um...concentrate.”

“How unfortunate. I suppose I should take responsibility,” he murmurs. His next words reverberate through her entire body.

“Open your mouth, Touka-chan.”

She purses her lips, moistening them, and then does as he says. Her eyes pinch shut as Haise leans in, exhaling slowly against her lips and then tracing them with the tip of his tongue, from one corner to the next. Once he’s done, he cradles her head behind the ear and draws her mouth to his.

She sighs with pleasure, but the kiss is brief. He pulls away and murmurs, “We have to do this properly, right? Open wider. And give me your tongue.”

In the short time they’ve been in a relationship, he’s never spoken to her like this — calm, and firm, and authoritative. This isn’t like the usual Sasaki-sensei at all — or maybe — well, yes, she supposes, it is. The voice he’s using with her now is his _lecture_ voice, his _listen to me_ voice. The only thing different is the words.

And she can’t resist. Her mouth drops wider, with a shudder, and this time when he kisses her she raises her tongue to meet his. The sounds their mouths make seem strangely loud, and wet, and they kiss until her breath is gone and he murmurs, “Good job.”

She draws toward him again, hungry, fingers gripping his shirt. When is kissing him ever going to stop making her feel like she’s going to melt into a puddle? When is the urgency she feels whenever they touch ever going to quell?

She almost protests when he raises his hands from her, but it’s only to untie the bow at her neck so he can peel her shirt apart and kiss her throat. Touka gasps — her legs quaver — she focuses on breathing as Haise moves lower, sucking her collarbone so hard that she knows he’s leaving a mark there, the third in as many days. Just as in all previous times, the pressure of his mouth and the sight of her vivid skin gleaming with his saliva makes her pulse race.

After all these years, she’s finally his. She’s _his._

And, more importantly, he is hers too.

She rubs her palm lightly on the bulge in his slacks, and she feels him smile into her skin.

“So you want more than my mouth after all, Touka-chan?”

She grimaces in embarrassment. “Y-you — you don’t need to put it like _that_.”

“Why not? It looks like it’s the truth.”

Her next words are gut reaction — pure, stubborn impulse.

“It’s not,” she mutters, and he smiles at her.

“Alright,” he says, and something in his tone is off, and something in her chest jerks a little, something inside her screams, _I missed something, I made a mistake_ , but before she can say anything else he has his hands on her hips. He stands and sets her on her desk where he was sitting, and then reaches behind her and with one motion pinches loose the clasp of her bra through her clothing.

“Unbutton your shirt,” he says, and Touka thinks, _Maybe it was just my imagination,_ and she unbuttons, sexily, or so she hopes. He is watching close and doesn’t seem to have complaints. The shirt parts, centimeter by centimeter, and when her bra is fully visible he reaches forward and thumbs the cups up, exposing her breasts completely.

It doesn’t feel like too long ago that she was embarrassed to show herself to him at all; now whenever he lays his eyes on her the only thing she can think of is how much she wants his hands to be next. Her breathing grows heavy and unabashedly loud as he presses her breasts up and together, once, twice. He flicks his tongue at a nipple and then rolls it into his mouth and sucks until the pressure in her body makes her legs hook around his waist.

Her skirt rides up — when she pulls him toward her she can feel his erection against her underwear, the latter of which is already embarrassingly wet.

“ _Sensei_ ,” she says hoarsely, and can’t say anything more, and doesn’t need to. Haise kneels on the ground and she reclines back, propping herself on her elbows as he reaches and hooks her underwear off over her knees and still-socked ankles. Then he moves his head beneath her skirt and grabs her ass and drags her partway over the desk edge, straight onto his open mouth.

“A-ah — _haah_ —”

The strokes of his tongue are broad, and long, and maddeningly gentle. Her legs bend and raise into the air; the curled toes of one foot rest on Haise’s shoulder blade. Oh, she’s so close so close so close, but he won’t — he just — _won’t_. She tries to ease herself closer, but he holds her back; she tries to angle her clit to him, but he just dabs his tongue on it. After a minute of this she folds her skirt back to reveal him beaming up at her.

“ _Why,_ ” she demands, and he replies, “Why what?”

“You know!”

“I’m so sorry, Touka-chan. I thought you just wanted my mouth. Was there actually something else you wanted?”

She _knew_ she’d made a mistake.

“Tell me,” he says. “Tell me what you want.”

She trembles; her knuckles pale as her nails scrabble on the table. Haise stands and leans over her to kiss her brow and his cock pushes right up against her sex again and she feels like she wants to rip something apart, and also like she wants to cry. She can’t say it.

It’s embarrassing. And he’s — _Sasaki Haise_ — the person that she — that she loves, that she has loved, for years. He’s done so much for her already. The words knot in her throat at the first thought of asking for more. She doesn’t want to be troublesome. She doesn’t want him to — _leave_ —

“Tell me what you want. I’m your teacher, Touka-chan. I’ll take care of you.” Haise’s voice echoes down her spine and fingertips. “Come on, let’s keep going. Undo my belt.”

Her fingers are weak and clumsy with the buckle, but she manages it. Without further instruction, her thumbs catch on his pants and underwear and yank them down, just far enough so his cock bobs free. There’s a moment’s delay as he retrieves a condom from his pocket and rolls it on and she watches, heart pounding.

Sensei is — so turned on by her. And he wants to come, inside _her._

He pumps his cock a couple times with his hand, and then kisses her, tender.

“Say it,” he murmurs, and she swallows.

“S-say what?”

“Say what you want. Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

She takes a breath. “Just do it.”

He laughs. “Do what?”

She purses her lips, hard.

“I want to hear you,” Haise says. He adjusts his glasses. “Tell me.“

She swallows. His hand drops; he rubs up and down the lips of her sex, and he nudges her clit, ever so lightly, and she can’t breathe, he’s close and so far so far so far —

“Say it, Touka-chan.”

“Sensei,” she cries, “ _fuck me,_ ” and now that she’s said it once it’s so much easier to say it again, “ _fuck me, please, fuck me_ ,” and he groans and enters her in one thrust. Then he withdraws, and thrusts again, and again, and again, and neither of them can hold back anymore, neither are even attempting to quiet themselves. Their hips buck together — his tie flaps against her bouncing breasts — her fingers rake his shirt so hard that a button pops off.

 _Who knew,_ Touka thinks. This desk that she used to study for her exams on — that she often worked on until she sprawled asleep — this desk that she’s spent hours at, probably, just wondering about him. Who knew that one day, today, _right now_ , Sensei would be fucking her on this very desk?

“Harder,” Touka moans, “ _more,_ ” and Haise gasps, and this time he is the one obeying.

:::

In the end, her old uniform is packed up alongside everything else.

“You’re a huge pervert,” Touka says, not unkindly, and Haise laughs and scratches his head.

“I...well...It’s...hard to explain. It’s something you just need to experience,” Haise says, and Touka’s eyes narrow in thought, and that seems to be the end of it, until she comes back to their new apartment one day with a hanger encased in black plastic.

“What’s that?“ Haise asks as she hangs it up in the bedroom. “A new dress?”

Her smile’s mischievousness makes his pulse pick up.

“Something like that,” she says, and tugs the plastic off. “ _Voila._ ”

It’s a high school uniform.

A _boy’s_ high school uniform.

He blinks at it, and then at Touka, who reaches out and tousles his hair.

“Well? What do you think? Go ahead.” She leans in toward his ear and says, in a soft voice, “Try it on, Sasaki-kun.”


End file.
